White Noise in the Nighttime
by krinklysodapop
Summary: This story is in two narratives: the first from the POV of a new guard under the Joker's wing, to whom he sets a task to test his obedience. The second is from Harley's POV, telling us how she views her beloved clown. (Suicide Squad heavily inspired)


It was a quarter-past three in the morning as I walked the halls of the cramped apartment on the Bay Side of Gotham City's Uptown. I remember it was an unusually nice place in a respectable borough, with the customary two bedrooms needed to house our most important and valuable objectives. Leave it to Gotham to continually surprise me with her different divisions and secrets that even a native like myself had been ignorant to. Even as I aged, the city showed me just how easy it was for it to open its grasp and swallow you up, whole new aliases and personas being created in the nighttime, allowing criminals and lowlifes to thrive like cockroaches beneath the floor. Maybe that was why none of these supervillians ever left, the city never grew too small for all of them because there was always one more layer, one more crack to slip into that was ripe for the taking.

The clean, wooden floor didn't even sigh as I eased down the tight space, which didn't settle my suspicious nature that was (and continues to be) always waiting for someone to slip under the radar, or to be jumped at the least expected moment. Dubious thoughts like that could drive a person crazy, but then again in order to survive amongst the company I kept for as long as I did no doubt indicates that I most likely am a little off to a certain degree. How much of a degree is yet to be determined, _it depends on the circumstance_ as The Joker would tell me.

That night, the majority of the guys were outside of the apartment; they had been given a gracious night off and were probably having a beer down the street or sleeping on an actual bed without having to worry about being up before daybreak. I thought about it with disdain, for at that point, the last time I hadn't slept on a cramped couch within the last week and a half was when I'd slept with my back against the wall in an alley during a sweep job.

A testiment to my inexperience, I assumed that when the boss had dismissed the rest of the guys but pulled Roberts and I back had meant that we were due for some sort of punishment. My friend Leo, who was killed later that spring, had given me a concerned glance as he was forced out the door, which only tightened the dread in my stomach.

I walked down the bedroom hallway now not just to check up on the bosses but also because I wanted to let Roberts sleep on the pull-out bed. He had fallen asleep with the television on at a low volume, in true old man style. The man had a seasoned and blunt personality that when coupled with his heavyset body made you trust him almost immediately, he had shown me the ropes when I was first brought in from across the river.

Joker's room had seemed quiet enough, his door was shut tight which told me to promptly "fuck off" which meant I would not know precisely what he was doing in there. The light streaming in from under the door told me that he was still awake, his thoughts busy with...whatever it was that he thought about. I stayed my course toward Harley's room, thinking that I knew exactly what the Joker was doing. A rookie mistake.

Harley's room seemed to be inconspicuous at first. Her door was only slightly ajar allowing me to look inside if I needed to. . She was speaking too faintly for me to make out the words but loud enough to instill a curiosity in my young heart. Of course I knew what the right thing to do at the time was: rest assured that my employers were where they should be, and turn right back around. But this was infinitely easier stated than heeded.

Until that point I'd never gotten a very good look at Harley, I'd been doing small group jobs with the other guards in the dead of night, speaking to Joker himself only sparingly, and when "stay away from her" was one of the first pieces of advice I'd received from Roberts, I couldn't help but fantasize what or who she was. The woman who could supposedly rein in The Joker, the woman who ran with him through the fiery fields of Gotham and came out smiling, I'd heard that they'd escaped from Arkham together, hand in hand, and she would run off into the night with human blood as a nightgown over her naked body. They said her face was even more disfigured by scars than the Joker's was, that she was missing half her nose because he'd cut it off.

I had never seen her, but she was all around me: the guards gossiped about her while we walked the streets, Roberts would delay me from returning so I would avoid a vicious fight between them, and I would wipe clean her rooms when we were done with a particular place. I breathed in her air and followed in her footsteps, yet had never caught sight of her with my own eyes.

I say these things now to justify my actions, but despite this, I still wish that I'd never cracked open that door any further.

Ergo, unaware of the danger of future events, I put my hand against the door and inched it open second by second. At least I knew to be surreptitious about it, as the door creaked and the room became more exposed to me. It was lit up by the moon, I saw the window drapes had been yanked off of their stands and scattered on the floor in a crumpled pile. Clothes lay on the white carpet, a couple seemed to be torn in pieces as if by animals, and as I saw more of the room I noticed the enormous stain right between the bed and the bathroom door. The smell of it immediately alerted me to what it was.

"Why, Harley-girl, I do believe we have a guest!" Rasped a familiar voice that made my stomach drop to my knees and tempt the thought of sprinting back into the dining room with my tail between my legs.

To my horror the door whipped open before I could do anything and I saw her. Her long hair was so blonde it looked nearly white, she wore a tight undershirt so ripped up I could see her bra and soft torso. She had tattoos and bruises written down her legs which ended in mismatched, neon colored socks. Her dark lips spread in a brilliant grin with teeth whiter than the moon, a stark contrast to the Joker's yellow pair.

Harley pulled me in by the fabric on my shirt, her strength enough to bewilder me, and asked, "There's someone at the door, puddin', were you expecting someone?"

"Well I don't know, bring him over here, Hon'," Joker commanded, he was seated at the foot of her bed still with his green waistcoat on. The patterned shirt beneath it had been rolled up to his elbows while his suspenders hung by his knees, he too was wearing a pair of mismatched, patterned socks, "oh, Nick, well this is certainly a surprise, come here and let me get a good look at you."

The fact that he knew my name shocked me more than anything else that evening. The Joker stared me up and down like he was seeing me for the first time, his eyes aglow with the same curiosity that had led me into this mess. I knew that how I reacted for the next few moments would probably determine whether or not I was thrown out the window. I managed a steadying breath before stating, "I'm sorry, boss, I-I figured...I was just doing a check to make sure Ms. Quinn was alright in her room."

He started giggling happily and bobbed on the bed like an expectant child, "That is the sweetest thing I've ever- Harley, did you hear that?"

"What? What'd he say?"

"Oh, say it again, say it again, Nick," the boss insisted, but reaching out and pulling on my collar so I couldn't turn my head to ask Harley, "look at me this time and say it again."

Recognizing the challenge, I unflinchingly stared into his maniacal, black eyes and repeated what I had said without so much as a stutter to my speech. The scars embedded into his face looked ghastly in the light, and I took in the fact that his face was almost devoid of makeup save for the traces of white that made his face glow in the pale light, he and Harley both, like I was in a room of ghosts.

He beamed in approval of my retort, his shining teeth glinted in the luminescence, "Then why don't you ask her for yourself, Nick? Go on, get a good look at her."

The boss then manhandled me into looking at his girl, holding my face in his oddly cold hands and forcing my neck to turn, it was only as I felt his long fingernails press into my skin that I realized that the Joker wasn't wearing his gloves (something I would only see three other times in the year and a half I worked for him) .

Harley had been looking out the window, her long, slender legs shining in the soft glow of the night. Her hair fell down her back and over her shoulder, it was long and thick and her arms rested atop her hips, covered in bruises. She turned around as the boss called to her, and she looked at me with a gentle smirk on her face, her over-drawn, dark lips tried to distract me from seeing her eyes, which even in the dim light I could see were either gray or blue. The only thing close to disfiguring her face was the dimple in her cheek when she beamed her biggest smile.

I opened my mouth as if to speak but had immediately forgotten what to say, I didn't want anything to change in this small amount of time and I was willing to look like a fool to make it last as long as I could.

"Does she look alright to you, Nick?"

"Y-yes she does, sir."

"Yeah, Nicki, you think so?" He paused and turned my head to look at him again, "Then why don't you go and check her out? Go on," Joker released his vice grip on my neck and my heart starts to quicken its beats, he slaps his hand against the back of my leg to urge me to move, and I couldn't tell whether this was another challenge or a sick game in the moonlight.

Weighing my odds, I started to approach her. Harley didn't move a muscle except to give a coy smile and looked up at me with her pretty bright eyes.

"Touch her, Nick, I want you to." the boss urged in the background like a trainer getting his pets to perform some tricks, his voice almost pleaded for it, his need palpable in the atmosphere.

And like any good pet, I raised my hand and grazed Harley's cheek with my thumb. Her reaction was electric and unexpected, as she allowed the smallest sigh to break through her lips and her shoulders eased down a fraction of an millimeter. The second she did this I felt both an intense fear for what would happen if the boss had noticed and an overpowering need to protect her from herself and her choices. I looked in her eyes and

Harley's face opened up into a candid smile now, and nodded to me as if we we had reached a mutual agreement. "Baby, how much longer do we have to-"

"No!" the boss shrieked, silencing her, "you're not doing it right, Nick!" He came across the room and treated us like models posing for his scene.

He stretched out his white hands to grab Harley on the sides of her neck, he held her with a forcefulness that pushed her back into the wall while she put her hands over his wrists. I felt a dread build up in my chest as I watched him practically lunge at her.

"You do it like this, Nick, this is how I want it." The boss told me without taking his eyes off of Harley.

He suddenly leaned in to her collarbone, just beneath where his hands were loosely wrapped around her neck, and bit into her skin. Harley's eyes closed and her jaw locked against the pain, her gaze met mine for a couple seconds and she threw me a sly smile, I couldn't tell if it was in spite of the sting or because of it.

"There," Joker said as he pulled away, letting his hands drop to his sides once more, "that's what I want you to do."

"I-I don't-" I stammered, not able to utter a coherent thought.

"Oh come on, Nick, it'll be fun. I can take a little bite." Harley teasing, winking at me.

The boss was more forthright, reaching inside the breast pocket of his shirt to produce a small boxcutter in his open palm. A casual flick of his thumb pushed the tip of it out, he didn't directly point it at me in a threatening fashion but instead held it up as if for me to inspect it.

"Nick," he started, speaking to me as if I was a child, "play the game, Nick. Don't you want to make sure my Harley is alright? "

There was an instant of deafening silence that passed in what felt like hours, before Harley suddenly spoke up, "But baby, why should Nick do it? I want _you_ to take care of me. Come here, Honey, come play with _me_ and leave him out of it."

She took a step toward him while steadily lowering the blade in his grasp, putting her hand over the edge itself in order to coax it down. The boss's smile began to soften into his face, though he stared into his girl's eyes as impassive as stone. I could detect the private moment that I was allowed to see, and it made me uneasy. The two of them were surprisingly private about their affections, yet it was obvious that they were both caught in each other's web. It was an anomalous paradox.

"Oh Harley," The Joker cooed as he twirled a tress of her tangled blonde hair in his fingers, "look at you, making sure everyone around is safe from my big bad claws. Everyone except..."

He let his voice trail off and his eyebrows raise at that one, staring only at Harley. waiting for her to continue the game. The passage of time was marked only by him pulling on the end of her hair like a bell. When Harley did finally speak, it was so soft that in any other situation I wouldn't have heard it.

"Daddy, _please_ , don't bring that up."

"But I think Nick wants to hear the story!" He exclaimed gleefully, dropping the knife in order to wrap his hands around Harley, making her cry out in surprise. He spun her around so I could see her face again, the moonlight that shone off of her remaining white makeup made her face appear to glow. Her light eyes were squinting back tears.

"You don't know what you're missing, Nick, it's a _great_ story!" Joker continued, his excitement could have shook the room, "Babydoll here had an excellent idea of saving this little baby we found inside of a dumpster. She goes 'we can't just leave him here, we have to keep him safe' like it was a little-bitty pet that she wanted to keep!"

His laughter had reached such a point that he interrupted his own story, holding her against his chest as he guaffed madly in her ear. His laugh was so raw and varying it seemed like it could split a hole through his throat, if it weren't for the fact that he kept going. I had been avoiding looking at Harley until then, but she was staring out the window, her throat was constrained and she swallowed back her feelings, but the glassiness to her eyes gave them away.

Before I could attempt to interject, the boss began to speak again, "But here's the kicker: the thing was annoying as a tick, I hated it and even Harley started to get sick of it, though she'll never admit that. So, she gets another brilliant idea of 'let's put the kid down on someone's doorstep! It'll be like in a _Disney_ story'. She put it down under someone's porch in an alley where no one else would touch it and leaves it there for the whole night, before dragging me back with her to check up on it, just before daybreak. And do you know what happened, Nick?"

"I do not, boss."

" _The rats_. She had put it in a dead-end alley with trash all over the place, and before it could make a sound it had been gutted like a pig by _rats_." the Joker started to cackle once more while tears streamed down Harley's face, "just imagine the family's surprise when they opened the door the next day, Hon'? Your little blessing from Jesus turned into a demonic sacrifice!"

The thought made something catch in my throat, filling me with the vile smell of death just from imagining the carnage made my head spin, but I refused to gag while still in his presence. He proceeded to spin Harley back around, holding her from around the back with one hand and using another to brush the hair out from her face.

"Why did you tell him that story, J?" Harley pleaded, her voice cracking as she forced out each word.

"Because there's _nothing_ funnier than telling other people about your mistakes, Harl." He grinned in her face before glancing over at me, "Now, Nick, I would just _love_ it if you would leave this little thing and I alone for the rest of this _gorgeous_ evening."

"But-" I interjected, not knowing if protecting the bosses from each other was a part of my obligations. Another rookie mistake: questioning the boss when he was clearly pissed was a move twenty miles beyond the line.

"I said: **fuck off!** " he screamed at me, loud enough to rip a hole in my ear and make Harley visibly recoil more than she already was, had it been physically possible for her to take a smaller stance than she was already in.

My tail between my legs, I rushed out of the room in a pace just shy of a sprint, not wanting to give him the chance to pick the boxcutter back up again, while my stomach filled with dread as heavy as a stone for my moral dilemma. I hated the thought of leaving Harley in there with that _maniac_ , I thought back on how he was holding her in his arms that would've surely left bruises in her skin. I closed the bedroom door feeling as though I'd just turned my back on a potential murder.

The sense of hopelessness and lack of wisdom in what to do in the situation weighed heavily on my shoulders as I sat down in the recliner and looked at the television still playing, without seeing what was on. Roberts's peaceful snores filling the room.

A couple more minutes passed before I heard her cry from the other room. I felt my heart tighten in my chest as I shot up out of the chair, but struggled with what the appropriate action was that wouldn't involve killing myself. The answer came in the old man's hand suddenly raised in a slowing gesture. He groggily turned on his side to face me, and, with his eyes still closed, said, "Don't worry about it, son, if he was going to kill her he would have done it already."

" _Why did you tell him all that_? I didn't want him to know about it, and I don't want him to tell the other guys about i- Baby stop laughing!" I scolded J as he cackled like a lunatic, holding onto his sides like in an old cartoon.

I put my hands on my hips, trying my best to be defiant although I might as well have been laughing with him for all the good I could have done. Even keeping a serious mindset toward J was like slipping into a different skin- clumsy and uncomfortable. Although I was much more content being angry than frightened, as I usually was when J held me in his hands like a trapped bird. His mind would slip between happy and sad whenever he felt it was appropriate, until the days that I couldn't get a read on him, then he would be unpredictable just like he was now.

When he acted unpredictable I knew he was the most lethal to anyone around him. These were the times that his hits and stabs would come at me with unrestrained viciousness- I'd lost a part of my ear when I did something stupid while he was in the wrong mood. As I watched his eruption dwindle to a chuckle, I tried to gauge how forceful to act and whether or not it was worth it to try.

J flashed me a coy grin, like a child who'd been caught doing something bad, "Oh come on now, Honey-pie, don't be like that."

"You know I hate it- it's not funny."

"Everything's funny when you're not the one that messed up."

"But _why_ would you tell _him_ that?"

"Why not? He peeked in here, he wanted to look at you, and he probably thought he'd get a little something else- had it only been you in here. Right, baby? A little feel, a tiny squeeze as you rub him down and you'd have a regular nighttime special, wouldn't you?"

"J, you know I wouldn't do...that." I whispered, my hands lowered and my voice became as soft as a moth's.

He filled me with dread, pooling it into my stomach like a force-fed meal. The area on his face where his eyebrows should have been raised implicitly. It felt as though all the steam that had been in my chest suddenly left me to deal with the consequences on my own. J's words weren't true, but they cut down to my bones- he knew the things I had no choice but to do back in Arkham, things that made me slip off with the guards in the darkest hours of the night just to get food in the morning.

"Oh, you wouldn't?" J hissed, stepping forward until he towered over me, his hands staying at his sides, "Well then you wouldn't mind if I told him some stories about you, it's not like you think about _him_ in that way, right?"

Terror hit me like a bullet to the chest, "Daddy, no, you know that I wouldn't do that! It's you, I love you, I _only_ love you."

I reached my hands up to his face and planted my lips against his. He only stood there like a statue as I kissed his taut lips, not letting me in or responding to my touch, making my stomach sink lower as I pulled away. The silence in the room was painful, the sound of fire trucks down on the streets were the only passing report as the room built with tension.

Then, as though he had been kidding the whole time, J sighed and grinned, touching his bare fingers against my cheek like Nick had done, his shoulders relaxing, "I believe you, puddin', don't worry."

"Of course you should, honey, I'm yours. I'm your girl."

"You are my girl." He agreed as one of his arms reached behind me and pulled on my hair to make me tilt my head up.

"Yes you are, yes you are," he seemed to be speaking to himself now as he crouched down to pick up the boxcutter knife still laying on the floor.

I gulped as he held it up, watching the edge flash in the moonlight coming from the window. I kept a close watch on his face, waiting for when he'd slowly turn his gaze on me and stab it in my eye. His grilled teeth glinted in the light as well, as he kept his eyes on the edge as if in a trance, tracing his thumb along it. If it weren't for his hand pulling on the back of my head I would've thought that he'd forgotten I was in the room with him.

"Baby-" I started to say, before he suddenly lunged the short blade into the side of my stomach.

The action was so swift that if I hadn't shrieked at the immediate pain then I might not have realized that he did it. I looked but didn't see his face for a couple fractions of a second as I involuntarily put my hand over the wound. He was standing in such close proximity to me that though I couldn't hear his laughter I could feel him shaking against me, and I felt him harden against the inside of my leg as I unintentionally fell closer to him.

J grabbed my arms and threw me on the bed, his body pinning me down as he began putting his lips all over my neck and chest. I fought one hand out of his grip that was still holding the knife and wrestled it from him while he was preoccupied. I had my elbow locked against his chest, desperately attempting to push him off, his sheer strength both angering and frightening me.

He sat back on his legs and allowed me some leverage, as I sat up and pressed the edge against his neck. I surprised myself that I pressed hard enough to see a tiny droplet of dark blood fall down. We were in the shadows now but I could make out his eyes- so brown that they appeared black. His expression was expectant yet playful as he taunted, "Ooo, Harley, that's so ferocious of you, and you know I love it when you get angry."

Before I could speak, J moved to inspect the wound in my side, pulling up my tattered shirt to see it better. He made little clicks with his tongue like I was a little kid with a scraped knee, he even brought his lips to it and kissed me. Putting his hands over to apply pressure he cooed , "You'll be okay, sweet-cheeks, you know I'd never hurt what was _mine_."

"Am I going to be okay?"

"Of course, baby, it was only a short, little knife."

I took the blade away from his neck, making his smile widen, and tossed it off the bed to hit the floor with a thud, "Are there any more of those in my room?"

He started to chuckle and pushed himself forward, his hands sinking into the soft mattress on either side of me, trapping me in his cage, "You know there's always more."

When he bit my lips this time, I was expecting it and let his teeth sink in, it was a modest bite compared to others he had bestowed to me. I wanted to pull away and slap him, I could see myself hurting him in some way, but in what way that was I didn't know. I never knew when it came to _him_ , and that was the beauty of him, how every day was uncharted territory. Each time I woke up something else was going to happen, and he was always _excited_ about it, the enthusiasm was magnetic. J could do something that I'd never known in my life: he made me happy to be alive.

Knowing this, I cut back my anger like a feral dog, drawing in its leash, and returned J's harsh kiss as he drew back to wait for my retort. The other ways I felt about him superseded my desire to retaliate, or to hurt him in the ways he could to me. I could feel him smile into me, as I slid his waistcoat off his shoulders and began to suck on his neck. My hand that wasn't holding the wound on my stomach found its way to his pants and began rubbing along the zipper. He was plainly hard underneath, I persisted in my kneading while he eased further off the weight of his legs to press his head into my chest, ripping off what was left of the shirt that I wore.

When J first came in my room it was clear he wanted to romp, shaking me awake and pulling off the clothes that I had fallen asleep still wearing, I slowed him down by asking what he'd done with the recent funds we'd "received" and if he'd given the mobsters their share. He told me nothing had been sent, and gave me the hint that he had no intention of doing so. It was then that he noticed the bedroom door start to ease open.

I couldn't help but bring up the subject again as I wrapped my legs around his hips and fumbled with his pants, "Daddy, are you really going to try and hide that money from the guards? Half of them report right to their bosses and they're gonna see it-"

"Harley." He groaned with obvious annoyance against my collarbone, one of his cold hands laying on my stomach while the other dug into my back, "that money is off the books. We got it ourselves, and we're not telling _anyone_ about it."

"But...they'll find it."

Suddenly his finger dug into my cut, applying so much pressure that I gasped and tears stung my eyes as he growled, "Not if you keep your mouth shut. Yeah, baby-cakes?"

"Yes, God, yes puddin'!" I cried, my hands and legs pulling away from him.

As he took the pain away I brought my legs to my chest and curled myself under him, like water beneath an unyielding dock. I couldn't help but sniff pathetically as I closed my eyes against the dots that speckled my vision. I rubbed my face, getting pasty makeup on my hands and in the bedsheets. I could feel J's eyes watching me as I convulsed, he lowered himself toward my face making me tighten my muscles as though he was going to slap me.

My answer came to me as he ran his tongue against the side of my cheek. I would have gasped in surprise had I not been relieved that he didn't strike me. The slickness of it made my skin crawl as I turned my neck to look at him, still holding my stomach, I noticed droplets of black blood had gotten on the sheets and he smiled at me like a proud parent.

"No, I won't tell," I affirmed, "but that money's your problem now- I ain't helping you hide it."

J giggled under his breath as he proceeded to kiss me again, "Don't upset yourself, my Harley-girl, I've got something in mind for it."

His mouth began moving down my body now, his hands finally undoing the clasp of my bra. His hands chilled me while he put his mouth on my chest. I gasped despite myself upon feeling the flick of his tongue, I could feel his erection, straining against his underwear, grazing against my leg. I became beside myself with impatience as I pulled the rest of his clothes off: pulling his dress shirt over his head so I could run my hands gently over his scars.

J groaned, making me tremble with pleasure, ripping off my underwear while I pulled his own down and wrapped my legs around him again. The feeling was bliss, and I wondered if he would cry again like I was able to tease from him in the past. The last time I went into his room felt so long ago, and the predecessing one even further away, the physical need of mine to make him feel good and acknowledge my presence was as all-consuming as a scholar's goal to understand the universe. J was my universe, and I wanted him to know I was there. I would _always_ be there.

I realized too late that he was hesitating, he was _so_ close to me and yet I couldn't feel him in that hidden part of myself. He waited so long that I opened my eyes to see what he was doing, only to see his Cheshire Cat grin looking back at me, and I knew it wasn't a mistake or a distracting that made him hold off. He had something up his sleeve that I wasn't going to like.

"What?" I whined, the only word I could utter in my current state.

"I'm not doing it."

"W-what, that's crazy!" I exclaim, pushing my hips forward until I feel his hand on my stomach once more, thinking of what happened moments earlier, I stop immediately.

"I'm tired. I mean, it is pretty late, honey-pie," he leaned into my face and kissed me softly on the nose, "I know you haven't slept in a while."

Before I could wrap my head around what was going on he pushed himself off the bed and stood in front of me, naked as could be, his erection plain to see, yet he proceeded to pull his pants up and walk out the door.

"J! Wha- I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry for whatever I did, _please_ don't leave me- I'm begging you." I pleaded, sitting up in the bed and feeling tears start to well behind my eyes from my lack of understanding.

 _He hates you!_

 _Why would he love a dumb bitch like you?_

 _You're so stupid! (pointless) Look at you, pathetic._

The voices in my head start chorusing me, unwelcome guests at an unwelcoming event. I put my hands over my ears as I start crying softly. The moon went away outside, behind a cloud or past a building, encompassing my room in a dim darkness only lit by the city lights of neighboring buildings. I suddenly fear this darkness like the plague but I'm crippled by the voices- I can almost see their faces coming out of the walls.

" _Please_ ," I whisper, the open door letting in the brightest light.

"Goodnight, baby." He tells me, like a loving parent to their child.

My demons are surrounding me as he shuts the door.


End file.
